


The End

by DoubledDoors



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Death, Drabble, Gore, M/M, Violence, commission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 07:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12576420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubledDoors/pseuds/DoubledDoors
Summary: Negan thought they'd be fine.





	The End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [accidentaldogdad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/accidentaldogdad/gifts).



> Commission for a friend. 
> 
> If you don't like gore, this probably isn't for you.

“Negan, hurry up!” Rick shouted, panicked, as the two of them fled through the woods, dodging trees and vaulting fallen branches. Their footsteps echoed around the leaves and moss, boots slapping against mud as they tore their way forward, rapid breath fogging the air around them. A pack of roamers was not far behind, despite having barely-functional legs, they’d managed to keep up, and were quickly tiring out their human counterparts.

“I’m fuckin’ tryin’, Rick, but I ain't gonna be able to run much longer, I ain't had time to hit the gym or nothin’ like th—” Negan started, before abruptly being cut off as Rick tugged him into a rotting shack. The two gasped for air in the musky stench, eyes nervously peering out of the doorframe for any stray roamers through the thick forest.

“Somehow, I think that actually worked,” Rick muttered, awed. He’d been almost certain the pack would've caught onto their scent and stayed on their tail, but the growls and moans were fading into the distance, far away where they became much less threatening.

Negan balked at the man next to him. “You didn't think that was gonna work?! Why the livin’ _fuck_ did you drag me into a tiny enclosed space then, Rick?”

“Well, we're both here in one piece, so how about you keep your damn mouth shut, fatass.”

“You're not exactly beach body ready either, Dicky Ricky.”

“Well, I ain't half a ton. Now shut the hell up so I can think.”

“I ain't half a fuckin’ ton! That's what a goddamn elephant weights!”

Rick smacked Negan on the arm and motioned with his good hand. “C’mon, this way. There's more rooms in this place. Might as well bring back some stuff so Michonne doesn't think we're totally useless,” he said, opening a moldy wooden door easily.

Negan had just turned away from Rick when he heard the man scream. It was the worst sound he'd ever heard, horrified and so fucking human, it sent a spike of frozen terror down Negan's spine. “Rick—?!” he managed, whirling around and coming face to face with what he’d always feared would happen. A roamer had been in the room Rick had just opened, and now had its teeth firmly sunken into Rick's throat.

Negan couldn't breathe. He swung wildly, beyond emotion, at the roamer, knocking it off of Rick and far enough back that he could tackle the thing into the nearby cabinets, sending year-old cans of food flying and bursting open into explosive piles of rotted mush. Fear had turned into blind rage somewhere in the movement, and Negan felt his hands grab the roamer’s face, thumbs pushing at the eyes until they caved with a wet squelch, pus and blood oozing from the sockets. He slammed the head back, again and again and again and ag—

“Negan, stop!”

He looked up from the lump of blood and bones on the floor in front of him, meeting Rick’s hazy blue eyes.

“Don't do that,” Rick said weakly, sitting down on the floor, pressing a ripped-off part of his shirt to his neck. He looked so weak, so vulnerable, it took Negan right back to when he'd had the man under lock and key. The sight made him nauseous.

“Rick,” he rasped in a voice he barely recognized as his own. He crawled over on hands and knees to the man, drawing him into his arms, as close as he could possibly hold him. “Rick,” he repeated, voice shaking.

“Get outta here,” Rick whispered in a fading drawl that made Negan want to do anything but.

“No,” Negan replied, much more firmly, nuzzling his face into Rick’s neck, “No point. I’m followin’ you to the gates of hell.”

“Don’t...be an idiot…”

“Too fuckin’ late.” Negan wrapped his arms around Rick and closed his eyes, kissing his neck gently as the last few breaths left Rick’s lungs.

Once Rick started to go cold, the last of Negan’s humorous facade rushed out of him and he wept openly, shaking as he ran his fingers through Rick’s hair. There was no point in going back, there was nothing left for him there. Or anywhere.

As Rick bit his shoulder, Negan continued to hang on, not ever willing to let go of the last thing that mattered to him. 


End file.
